5 Ways B-sides
by Docile Boy
Summary: Bits and bobs from 5 Ways that didn't fit within the meme. Placement within the larger story noted at the beginning of each chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This fits between Chapters 3 and 4 of 5 Ways - before the dust up with Pope.**

Sharon Raydor was hiding. She wasn't in the morgue or in any of the break rooms or in Tompkins's office. And she had to be in the building, because her purse, phone and keys were sitting on her desk like she had thrown them down and rushed out somewhere. Brenda pursed her lips. Sharon never went anywhere without that phone - she'd even tuck it in her bra if she didn't have a pocket or waistband - a fact that never failed to make Brenda giggle.

She wasn't giggling today, though, because this morning her lover had caught a bitch of a case: a child, a little girl, caught in the crossfire and killed by an LAPD bullet. The officer who had fired the bullet was currently in surgery having buckshot removed from her back and buttocks - injuries sustained after she had thrown herself on the child she had accidentally shot while trying to defend herself from the shotgun wielding stepfather.

Thank god some prescient desk sergeant or dispatch officer had sent two black and whites to follow up on what should have been a routine noise complaint, because the flanking officers had managed to taser the man from behind before he could kill Officer Torres. Thank god she didn't have any dead cops on her murder board today. Thank god she was free to take care of sweet, sensitive Sharon, who was probably somewhere crying because she really couldn't handle the young ones. Trying to school her face into a semblance of pleasant helpfulness, she scooped up Sharon's purse and phone, and headed back out into the bullpen, where about a couple of FID officers were working diligently. Sharon's second in command, Lieutenant Elliot, moved to block her path to the door.

"Chief Johnson, I can't let you walk out of here with Captain Raydor's purse." He put his hands on his hips, as if his larger mass would intimidate her.

"Lieutenant," she purred dangerously, "the nice thing about being Chief is that I don't have to explain myself to anyone with fewer than two stars on their collar, but the Captain asked me to bring her things to her because she got caught up elsewhere. Now, if you'll excuse me…" The man scowled at her, suspicion written in every muscle of his body, but he moved out of her way.

She was almost to the elevator banks, contemplating where to look next, when someone called out: "Chief!" It was one of Sharon's Sergeants. Markham. She was a petite ebony skinned woman, and Brenda's only impression of her was that she was as professional and fastidious as all the officers that worked in FID.

"Detective Markham? Is there something you needed?" Brenda didn't think she'd ever exchanged two words with the woman before now. Markham, after performing a cursory check of the hallway for anyone who might be around, listening, stepped closer to Brenda to ensure that their conversation would be private.

"I apologize for Elliot - he's a little dense. But you might want to check in the west stairwell, for the Captain, I mean." Brenda lifted an eyebrow at the shorter woman, but Markham only smiled. "She just finished up with Morales on the autopsy of that little girl. We don't usually get truly blameless victims in FID, Chief. And the Captain…Well, you know." Brenda didn't know, not first hand, what such a victim could do to her Captain, but she could imagine. She looked at the little detective appraisingly and cocked her head. Markham didn't flinch under the scrutiny or look away.

"Thanks for the tip, Detective," Brenda offered congenially, looping Sharon's bag over her shoulder and rummaging in her own purse for her card case. She handed one to Markham. "I think that maybe you could put this to good use, if you catch my meaning."

Markham flashed her a wry grin and laid a finger along the side of her nose. "Sure, Chief." She pocketed the card. "If the Captain asks, everything is well in hand. There isn't much more to be done until Torres is out of recovery and can give a full statement." Brenda gave a nod, and turned towards the west stairwell door at the end of the hallway. When her back was turned, she smiled. Who knew?

Sharon was tucked away on the landing between the 7th and 8th floors, perched awkwardly on a narrow windowsill. Her eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, and it appeared to Brenda as though all the confidence, all the swagger, that carried Sharon through her working day had melted away, leaving behind a small, fragile woman who might break apart at any moment. Brenda loved her.

Sharon's head shot up at the sound of Brenda's heels on the cement stairs. She managed a wavering smile that amounted to a brief lift of the corners of her mouth. Dropping the purses to the floor, Brenda seated herself on a step. She patted the empty space next to her. Sharon unfolded from her perch and slumped down next to Brenda, graceless and full of edges, allowing Brenda to claim one of her hands, kissing the knuckles before cradling it in her lap. With a strangled noise that might have been a sob, Sharon let her head fall on to Brenda's shoulder.

They were silent until a phone pinged. Sharon sighed and lifted her head. "I guess it's time to get back to the real world." Her voice was rough and slightly unsteady.

"You don't have to. Sergeant Markham told me to tell you that until Officer Torres is available to give a full statement, there isn't much else to do. Everyone in your office looked to be dottin' I's and crossin' t's on the interviews you all conducted earlier." Sharon shot Brenda a look that managed to be fond and reproachful at the same time.

"I should be angry that you brazened your way into my office and past my people. And I should be even angrier that Sergeant Markham was not only keeping track of me, but told you where I was, but I'm too relieved you're here to care very much."

"I'm glad I could at least be here for you." Brenda tucked a lock of Sharon's silky hair behind her ear. "I'll come whenever you need me, Shari." Sharon nodded, her eyes welling up with tears again. Brenda wiped away the first one to fall with a thumb across Sharon's cheek.

"I know it's hard to ask for support, but Sharon," Brenda said, her voice cracking just a little, "I love you, I want to be here for you if you need me." Sharon chuckled a watery chuckle.

"That was a low blow, Brenda Leigh. Pulling out the 'I love you' card for the first time in a situation like this." Then she slung an arm around an anxious and fidgeting Brenda. "Oh, honey, it's ok." She gripped Brenda tighter. "I love you, too." Brenda turned to face the woman that had come to mean more to her than she ever thought possible. Their mouths met gently, with affection and the frisson of desire that undercut their every touch.


	2. Chapter 2

**TW: Discussions of Rape; Homophobia**

**AN: This piece takes place just after chapter 4 of '5 Ways'.**

Brenda Leigh Johnson was cursing her rotten luck at 11 am on a beautiful Saturday morning. She was going over SID reports from the alley where she and Sharon had interrupted a sexual assault in progress the night before. Tao and Buzz were hunched over Buzz's desk with the suspect's home and work computers. Provenza and Sanchez were criss-crossing across town, talking to Mr. Perlman's employer and coworkers. Flynn and Gabriel were talking to his neighbors. Now all she needed were some answers. And an angle.

Two hours later she had the answers she needed. And an idea about how she was going to approach the interview. An idea that should work if Sharon didn't immediately shoot it down. She called Sharon's cell; the other woman picked up after the first ring.

"Hey." Sharon sounded relaxed. She was probably sitting in the backyard reading.

"Hey to you, too. I need you downtown." Sharon was silent for a long moment.

"Is someone causing problems for you?" Sharon sounded less relaxed now - tense, and a little angry, even.

"Oh, no! Just a couple funny looks, but people've been looking at me funny since I moved to L.A., Sharon." Brenda wished Sharon was there to see that she was sincere. The older woman was worried about Brenda's emotional well-being at work through this whole coming out process - especially since they had inadvertently jumpstarted that process the night before. "Actually, I'm positive all the boys already knew, not just Gabriel and Flynn. Well, maybe not Buzz. He's had a rather serious case of the stammers this morning."

Sharon chuckled, then sobered again. "You're really okay?"

"I promise. It's business as usual around here, but I want you to come talk to the victim from last night with me, and then I'll need your help to get this guy talkin'."

"What do you have in mind?" Sharon was torn between being curious and being very wary. The shit that Brenda Leigh Johnson had pulled in her interview room was certainly the stuff of legend.

"Nothing bad! Just a little theatre that pushes all the buttons of this guy's superiority complex, is all."

"I can handle theatre. What do you need from me?"

"Well, this guy has issues with the wealthy, law enforcement, the government and lesbians. So I'm thinking we go in there and push as many buttons as we can and see if he'll pop."

"Mmmm. I take it I'm responsible for wardrobe and accessories that says we're living large on government overtime? And we're going to wear our best bored faces and completely ignore him?" Sharon was already on her way upstairs to collect the required clothing.

"Something like that. We can tell from his computers that he's a ranter with classic anger retaliatory pathology, we just need to get him going."

"Fantastic." Sharon said drolly, flipping through the closet. She pulled out a few things and hung them on the door knob. "Ok, I need to tame my hair and get dressed. I'll see you in a bit."

"Call when you're close and I'll meet you in the garage. Thanks for helpin' out with this."

"You owe me, Brenda Leigh."

"'Course I do." Brenda purred. "But owin' you one is no hardship, Sharon Raydor."

"Do you think maybe we'll have tomorrow free?" Sharon asked wistfully.

"I am not working tomorrow." Brenda was adamant. "If we don't get a confession today, putting together a case for prosecution can wait till Monday. See you in a bit."

Sharon's silver Crown Vic was idling in the loading area of the parking garage when Brenda exited the lobby of Police HQ. She slid into the passenger seat and took a good look at her lover. Sharon's hair was sleek, her makeup pristine and the platinum and pearl choker she wore matched a pair of earrings Brenda had never seen. She had relatively new matte titanium frames perched on her nose. Even driving in bare feet she looked like a million bucks. Then again, Sharon always looked like she was the star of some television drama about a beautiful and successful attorney.

"Hey gorgeous." Brenda leaned across the car for a kiss and Sharon didn't disappoint.

"I brought you a sandwich." Sharon pointed at the square tupperware on the dash. There was a bottle of tea and a package of Ho-ho's in the cup holders.

"Aww, thanks. I worked right through the lunch run Buzz made." She popped open the container. Thick slabs of roast beef on soft whole grain bread with provolone, lettuce, and a little horseradish.

Sharon put the car in reverse and twisted her body to do her head checks. Then she cast a stern gaze on her lover, whose cheeks were already bulging with a massive bite of sandwich.

"I'm going to talk to Gabriel about making sure you order something when someone makes a lunch or dinner run."

"I don't need a babysitter, Sharon." Brenda groused after she swallowed.

"No, you just need someone to put actual food in front of you so you don't dive headfirst into your candy drawer at mealtimes. You could just give Gabriel blanket permission to order you something - it's not like he doesn't know what you will and won't eat." Brenda made an incoherent noise of protest. Sharon rolled her eyes and pulled out into traffic.

"Don't even, Brenda Leigh. Mainlining treats from your candy drawer or the vending machine is not an acceptable substitute for a meal. Your doctor told you that need more calcium and iron in your diet and more fat on your body so you don't start hemorrhaging bone density. If you break a hip while we're in bed together, I'll never let you live it down." Brenda scowled at Sharon around another bite of sandwich. Sharon scowled back and sighed.

"I just want you to take care of yourself, or at least to let me take care of you. Can you promise to try to eat one more meal or substantial snack a day." Brenda narrowed her eyes in appraisement - trying to find the loophole in the deal.

"You'll keep feeding me leftovers? And you won't check up on me with my squad?"

"I'll check up on you with you, Brenda Leigh. But only if you've been at the office for more than a normal shift. And I'm trusting you to be honest." Sharon reached out to tuck a blonde curl behind Brenda's ear.

"And of course I'll give you leftovers. Every day we have them, if you want. I'll even pack you a sandwich every morning." She risked a brief glance away from traffic to meet Brenda's gaze. The blonde was sucking a bit of horseradish off a thumb. "You'll move in officially soon, right? I don't want to spend anymore nights apart."

Brenda shot her a look that was full of consternation. "I can't even stay upset at you for bein' bossy when you say such sweet things to me after."

"I apologize for so horribly frustrating your plans to pout."

"I accept your apology, so long as you let me kiss on you a minute before we go into the hospital."

"Gross, Brenda. You know I hate horseradish."

"Oh for heaven's sake. I have mouthwash in my purse, alright?"

"Acceptable."

Sharon made Brenda rinse and spit twice before pushing her up against the car and kissing her thoroughly for a few minutes. They were straightening their clothing when Brenda sighed lustily.

"I like kissin' you in public, Sharon Raydor." Sharon grinned at her.

"You're an exhibitionist at heart, Brenda Leigh."

"Only when I have the prettiest woman in Los Angles law enforcement on my arm." Sharon let herself feel a little smug at Brenda's pronouncement.

"Prettiest? Really? You think I'm prettier than Irene Daniels?" The automatic doors emblazoned 'GOOD SAMARITAN' parted as they stepped onto the mat.

"Mmm," Brenda said absently as she cast her eyes about looking for the admit desk. There it was. And then Brenda's attention was back on Sharon. "She was a lovely woman, but I never really noticed her physical attributes." Making a mental comparison now, though, Brenda thought Sharon had better hair. And eyes. A nicer ass. And her voice was sexier. And those legs. Dear god, those legs. Or maybe Brenda just liked the whole Sharon Raydor package and no one else really measured up.

The clerk at the admit desk told them that Shauna Arsenault was in room 12136. Pretty much on the opposite side of the hospital from where they had entered.

Brenda pressed the button on the elevator for floor 12. Up and then over was easier, the clerk had told them. Sharon leaned against the stainless steel wall.

"So I'm prettier than Mikki Mendoza?"

"You're pretty silly, is what you are." Brenda looked thoughtful a moment. "Mikki is kind of bad ass. Have I told you about that thing she did with this old beater of a car…" Sharon growled.

"You've told me about the car thing a dozen times. Mikki Mendoza likes to do dangerous things, like crash cars and flirt with you in front of me."

"Awww, honey. She didn't know we were together. And she flirted with you, too." Sharon was almost never jealous, but something about Mikki Mendoza really got her riled up.

"Oh, she knew. She was trying to get a rise out of me." Brenda stepped into Sharon's personal space and leaned her head on the brunette's shoulder.

"We're a little ridiculous." Brenda sounded remarkably content with her own assessment.

"Thoroughly ridiculous." Sharon agreed.

"I love being ridiculous with you." Brenda said sweetly.

"The feeling is very mutual, Brenda Leigh."

Brenda was quiet a long moment and then said with a note of wistfulness in her drawl: "You are pretty hot, though."

Sharon let herself laugh until the elevator dinged their arrival at the twelfth floor.

It took nearly ten minutes for them to wind their way through the hospital to room 12136, and by the time they had found the little private room tucked away in a quiet corner, Sharon was cursing herself for not wearing a pair of flats out of the house.

"Here it is." Brenda knocked on the door jamb and a small voice from behind the hospital curtain bade them come in. They looked at one another; Sharon reached out and traced Brenda's cheekbone with backs of gentle fingers, Brenda quirked a corner of her generous mouth at the gesture and mouthed 'love you' before stepping into the room and around the curtain. Sharon followed right on her heels.

The petite patient's eyebrows shot up under the bandages swathing her head when Brenda and Sharon stepped in front of her bed.

"Oh man, you're that hot couple from the club last night. I must have blacked out again. Bless my subconscious. Unless I bit it and the two of you have come to bear my soul up to heaven. Or down to hell." Sharon bit her lip to keep a laugh down, and everything about Brenda Leigh's face said she was about to burst into giggles.

"Hi, Shauna." Brenda smiled charmingly at the young woman. "I'm sorry to say we aren't manifestations of the afterlife, or even fever dreams. Just LAPD." Brenda's accent was broad and her voice was full of good humor and repressed laughter.

Shauna was gaping at the blonde Deputy Chief. She looked at Sharon. "Is she for real? With the accent and the cheekbones and the eyelashes?"

"She is. Fortunately. Or unfortunately, depending on who you ask." Sharon replied conspiratorially. Brenda shot her a scowl. "I'm Deputy Chief Sharon Raydor, and this is Deputy Chief Brenda Johnson. We came to check in on you and to ask you a few questions about last night."

"I can handle that." Then Shauna quirked her lips at Sharon. "And you too with the gorgeous voice." She turned to Brenda. "Do you ever ask her to read you a bedtime story?" A laugh burbled out of Brenda's throat.

"I that sounds like a lovely idea. What do you think, Sharon?"

"I think I'm glad we aren't recording this interview, Brenda Leigh." Brenda sneered playfully at her and Sharon smirked and turned her attention to rummaging in her purse for a pen and the small notebook she carried everywhere. She settled herself on the end of the bed, ready to take down anything that was pertinent to their investigation.

"Are you sure you're up for questions, Shauna. We can talk to you Monday, even if you've been released from the hospital." Brenda took a seat on the recliner at the head of the bed and put a gentle hand on Shauna's forearm.

"It's fine. Whatever pain medication they have me on seems to have obliterated my brain-mouth filter. If you can handle the perverted ramblings of my subconscious, then I can handle some questions."

"That's fine. We can use our best judgment about what goes on your final statement, ok?" Shauna assented. "So what time did your evening begin?"

"I drove in to LA from Orange County at around 9. Had dinner with a couple of college friends at a sushi bar on San Vicente."

"Ok. Do you remember what it was called?"

"Haru something? I could check my debit card statement for the exact name."

"It's ok. I know the one you mean. Sharon likes their lava stone."

"Good ice cream, too." Sharon added from the foot of the bed.

"What'd you do next, Shauna?"

"I said goodbye to my friends at around 10:15, I think? We stood around talking outside the restaurant for at least 10 minutes before we actually parted ways."

"So they didn't go with you to the club?" Shauna shook her head. "And did you notice anything out of the ordinary at this point? Someone hanging around that wasn't part of your group of friends?"

"Nope. The street was fairly crowded, and everything was moving at a good clip, except for us."

"Alright. Keep walking me through the night."

"I drove over to Blush and found a parking spot three blocks away, on the same street. I felt ok about it because the area was so well lit. It was probably 10:35 at that point." Shauna fished some ice chips out of the cup on her tray table and popped them in her mouth. "I danced a while - longer than I expected, but the music was better than what they usually play in lesbian clubs. Then, god forgive me, I watched the two of you dance a couple songs. But in my defense, I think half the women in there were watching you." Brenda's face flushed, but even though her cheeks were bright red, smirked in smug satisfaction. Sharon shook her head and chuckled.

"I left after a slow song. My cellphone was in my car - is still in my car - so I had no idea what time it was. All I had on me was my I.D. and enough cash to cover the door charge. When I walked out the door, there was a man smoking and talking on his cellphone, leaning against the building, but no one else was around. I started towards my car." Shauna swiped at her eyes and Brenda reached for her hand. "The next thing I remember, I woke up here."

Sharon liberated a packet of kleenex from her purse and handed one up the bed to Shauna, giving her ankle a squeeze before resuming her note taking.

"We're almost finished, Shauna. I'm going to show you some pictures. I need you to tell me if you recognize anyone, ok?" Shauna nodded, her eyes still welling up. Brenda fished a file folder out of her purse and pulled out a stack of pictures. She laid them, one by one, on the tray in front of Shauna. Shauna stopped her on the fourth one.

"That's the man who was smoking outside Blush." It was their perp, Joseph Perlman. Brenda handed Shauna a pen.

"The last step is to flip the picture over, write where and when you saw this man, and then sign and date it." While Shauna did so, Brenda fished her card case out of her purse. She leaned down the bed and snatched the pen from Sharon's hand, quickly scribbled a couple of telephone numbers on the back of a business card, and handed the pen back to Sharon. The photos she tucked back into their folder and put back into her purse.

"Now Shauna, when the doctors say you can go home, there a couple things I want you to do for me."

"Ooookay."

"Please, please, please talk to one of the therapists they recommend at least once. It really helps to talk to a professional. Friends and loved ones can sometimes be to emotional too help you get perspective."

"I can do that. I already see a therapist once a month so I'll increase my visits to once a week for a while."

"Excellent. It's a relief to know you'll be properly looked after. A uniform will bring your wallet and phone and keys by later this evening. And before you're actually checked out, call either my number or Sharon's and one of us or one of my detectives will come pick you up and take you to your car. If you aren't cleared to drive and can't make arrangements, let us know and we can help with that too."

"It's a relief to know it isn't sitting somewhere racking up parking tickets."

"Nope, it's tucked away on our lot, safe and sound. Is someone coming to stay with you this evening?"

"Yea, yea. My friend Carol is coming with clothes and toiletries and my laptop in a couple of hours." Shauna stopped talking and sucked her lower lip into her mouth, then asked in a shaky voice, "Before you go, can you tell me exactly what happened last night? No one has, beyond that I was hit over the head and probably very nearly sexually assaulted." Sharon saw Brenda turn and wipe discreetly at her eyes. She rose from the bed to perch on the arm of the chair the blonde was occupying. Sharon answered Shauna's question in a low, smooth voice.

"Forensics tells us you were hit from behind once with a piece of brick and dragged into the alley a building down from the night club. Brenda and I didn't see or hear the initial assault, but we did hear you scream. We apprehended the man before he could do anything else."

"It was you two that saved me?" Shauna choked back a sob and croaked out, "How can I ever thank you?" Then she burst into tears. Sharon moved onto the bed and gingerly took the crying woman into her arms; Brenda's warm hand a comforting presence on her thigh as Shauna cried herself out.

Brenda's face was grim as they walked out of the hospital. "Lying in wait. That fucker. Did you see anyone out there when we went into the club?" Sharon slung an arm around the blonde's shoulders.

"He wasn't there. Men standing around outside lesbian clubs are pretty noteworthy." Brenda was extremely tense under Sharon's arm. "Brenda Leigh, this is in no way your fault." Brenda shrugged and seemed to fold in on herself and kept plowing her way towards the car.

"No, you stop and listen to me. We apprehended a man before he raped someone. And you are brave and good and I have no doubt that had you not had a weapon, you would have chased that asshole down and tackled him." She pulled Brenda into her body, holding her unresisting body securely. "You cannot blame yourself for what scumbags do just because you happen to be in the vicinity." Brenda sobbed into Sharon's neck.

"I just can't stop thinking about the what if's, Shari." Brenda admitted in a choked voice. "Mostly, what if you had gone by yourself to get the car and something had happened to you? I feel so selfish, thinkin' like that." Brenda's arms came up to clutch at Sharon's back.

"It's not selfish, honey, because you won't let your worries paralyze you from getting a confession that puts this guy away for two counts of rape, assault, attempted rape, all with the special circumstance of lying in wait."

All of Major Crimes were gathered in the media room, watching as Chiefs Johnson and Raydor interrogated Joseph Perlman. There wasn't much to see at the moment, in terms of interrogation; the Chiefs were leaning against the far wall, dressed in elegant, tailored courtroom best, talking softly. And yet the six men were glued to the screens as if it was the final moments of some big game. The room was silent but for the murmurs of the Chiefs, too soft for the ambient microphones to really pick up, and the occasional deliberate creak of the suspect's chair.

"I just don't see it," Buzz said. "Are you sure they aren't just friends?"

"Buzz, I thought you were getting to be a better detective than that." Buzz frowned at Flynn for the insult. "Well, if you don't see it, then what do you see?"

"Two middle-aged women talking," he squinted at the screen, trying to read their lips, "about plans to lay around the pool tomorrow."

"You're missing the forest for the trees." Andy admonished. "We might have to revoke your membership into the honorary detective's club, Francis."

"Don't call me that," Buzz said, scowling. "I never see them interact, how was I supposed to notice anything beyond Chief Johnson's secretive texting and sudden dislike for overtime."

"Yea, Flynn. Go easy on the kid." Provenza gave Buzz a hearty slap on the back.

"You are so full of shit, Provenza. You didn't do any 'detecting'. The only reason you knew is because Agent Howard told you he walked in on them."

"Way to keep that on the down low there, Flynn," Provenza growled. Buzz, Tao, Sanchez and Gabriel looked at the two men, slack jawed.

"Oh shit," Tao said softly.

"Seriously," Sanchez agreed. He narrowed his eyes at Provenza and then Flynn. "You can't let something like that slip and not elaborate. Totally not cool."

Flynn and Provenza exchanged a look. Flynn shrugged. He was surprised Provenza hadn't told everyone the moment he heard the story from Fritz.

"Fritz used his key to get into their old place and happened upon the Chiefs in flagrante delicto. Apparently they were both enjoying themselves to the hilt, if you pardon the expression." Despite his attempt at humor, Provenza ears reddened as he spoke.

It was Buzz who blushed most furiously of all of them. He looked at from the screens to Provenza and then back again.

"Oh my god. That's…" Buzz trailed off, staring at the two women in the interview room like he'd never seen them before.

"That's seriously hot." Sanchez finished, smirking and nodding.

"Guys, we shouldn't be talking about them like this," Gabriel said from where he was sitting on the cabinet.

"Don't be such a wet blanket, David." Sanchez replied. "I'm happy for the Chief. At least someone on this squad is having good sex." Everyone laughed at that.

"So, Detective Sergeant David Gabriel, how did you detect the Chief's new romantic interest." Provenza asked, spinning his chair around to peer intently at the embarrassed man.

"Yea, David, let's hear about your skills," Sanchez teased.

"I didn't need any skills. I read a text message that I shouldn't have, ok?"

"That has to be a good story, if you're so embarrassed about it," said Sanchez, wiggling his eyebrows. Gabriel sighed. He knew they would be relentless until he spilled his guts.

"The Chief left her phone here one night and I went to take it to her, but she wasn't at her place. She got a text message and I read it because I thought it might let me know where to take the phone. That's it."

"Hell no, that's not it." Sanchez pushed. "What did it say that makes you blush so hard, Gabriel." David tried to glower severely enough that they would leave it alone, but he found his glower reflected back at him times five.

"Fine. Raydor told the Chief to be ready for her because it had been three days since they had last, you know."

Sanchez hooted. "Damn. The Chiefs got swag."

"Why are we talking about this if Julio is the only one enjoying himself?" Gabriel wanted to know.

"Oh, I'm enjoying myself," Flynn said.

"Me too," volunteered Tao.

"Really, Mike?" Gabriel asked, incredulous.

"As crass as these anecdotes are, they're also quite enlightening." He ran a hand over his bald head. "Chief Johnson and Chief Raydor have always had a lot of chemistry. It wasn't all that surprising that they ended up together." His face grew stern and serious. "We should all be mindful of how we talk about their relationship outside of the squad."

"Yea," Andy agreed. "It would really hurt the Chief if she knew we were being disrespectful. All joking aside, Raydor has been really good for her and good to her."

"You think it's serious? Not some rebound, hate sex thing?" Sanchez asked.

"They haven't had a serious disagreement in months, Julio. If you leave your whole lesbian porn fantasy behind and watch them together, they're actually pretty sweet."

"They are," Tao seconded. "Cathy and I have seen them out a couple times when one of the Laemmle's shows Russian or eastern European films. Cathy thought maybe they were just socializing; that it couldn't be easy to be two of the most powerful women in the department and who better to be an understanding friend. But they were so -…"

"Into each other?" Flynn supplied. Tao nodded. "I mean, there's heat there, but it's more than that. They take care of each other." Flynn chuckled, remembering something.

"What's funny, Flynn?" Provenza wanted to know.

"You know we haven't seen a hair of that ugly-ass camel sweater since they started dating." He chuckled again. "But the Chief does sneak into Raydor's office and steal her blazers when she's had a rough day."

Sanchez looked vaguely offended. "That is kind of cute," he groused.

Flynn burst out laughing at Sanchez's hurt feelings and then jumped when the suspect slammed an open palm on the interview room table. Everyone's eyes snapped to the monitors. Perlman said nothing; just settled back in his chair, now openly scowling at the two women in the room with him. The Chiefs didn't show any emotion beyond a pair of disdainful raised eyebrows. They carried on with their conversation.

"Now we're getting somewhere," Provenza said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

The media room stayed quiet now as the suspect grew more agitated. The Chiefs were punctuating whatever they were talking about with a little more intimacy; the grasp of a forearm, a finger trailed across the back of a hand, a sweet smile - Chief Johnson even blushed a little. The suspect glared and gripped the edge of the table till his knuckles were white and shifted incessantly and heavily in his chair.

The media room door banged opened and Chief Pope walked in. Flynn rolled his eyes. They had all hoped to never see the man again after he was confirmed as Chief of Police, but Pope couldn't seem to keep his nose out of their murder room for more than a week or two. And here he was again, on a Saturday no less. Andy couldn't help but think his presence had nothing to do with the actual case they were working and everything to do with the fact that Brenda Leigh Johnson had once again chosen someone other than Will Pope.

Pope looked at the monitors and scowled. His jowls quivered.

"What in god's name is going on in there." In the interview room, Chief Raydor quirked her lips at Chief Johnson, and then reached out to tuck a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "Are they FLIRTING during an interview? Have they lost their minds?" Provenza glanced over at Andy, who shook his head minutely. It was not his turn to play peacemaker. Provenza pushed his chair back and stood up.

"Chief Pope, why don't you have a seat and watch the interview." Pope sat down without taking his eyes from the screens.

"What interview? They're chatting and completely ignoring the suspect. Am I paying time and half to three lieutenants, two detectives and a civilian tech to watch two deputy chiefs play footsie with one another in front of a suspect?" Pope was really working up a head of steam.

"No, sir. Chief Johnson and Buzz are the only ones on the clock. The rest of us signed out after we finished canvassing or in Tao's case, analyzing the suspect's computers. And I don't believe Chief Raydor was ever on the clock today. Now Chiefs Johnson and Raydor are putting on a little show for our rapist, there, hoping to get him started." Provenza was trying hard to be conciliatory. Did Pope really think they were here just to waste time?

"So all of this actually has a point?" Pope still didn't sound convinced. Buzz turned his head towards Andy and rolled his eyes towards the heavens. Andy found the sentiment appropriate and echoed it.

"Of course it does, sir." Tao took up the thread of Provenza's explanation. "A general analysis of Mr. Perlman's online presence and social networking accounts revealed strong biases against the wealthy, the police and authority figures in general, and, uh, lesbians. An anonymous blog updated from Mr. Perlman's personal I.P. address contained poorly disguised accounts of the first two attacks. Interviews with coworkers and neighbors pointed to a severely unstable and narcissistic personality. I believe we are dealing with a classic anger-retaliatory pathology here, directed at lesbians because of some perceived wrong in his past."

"Not to mention the fact he spent all night in holding ranting about 'the crazy dykes' that arrested him." Provenza added helpfully.

"Oh." Pope was still not a happy camper; he sat stiffly in his chair, jaw clenched, glaring at the monitors.

"Chief Johnson's interview with last night's victim revealed that Mr. Perlman was laying in wait for a victim to leave a nearby club. She's hoping that she can add the additional special circumstance to the charges. The special circumstance of hate crime seems like a given with the evidence we've collected." Andy laid out the last little plum for Chief Pope. Successful resolution of this case would really be a feather in Pope's cap in his relationship with the GLBT lobby. All their ducks were in a row, but Andy wondered if Pope's history with the Chief was going to make life hard for her, and them, in the future.

In the interview room, Chief Johnson stepped closer to Chief Raydor so that their bodies were very nearly touching. Then she leaned in slowly, for all any of them could tell, completely focused on Sharon Raydor's lips, giving Perlman time to react. He didn't disappoint, flying up out of his chair, which clattered over backwards onto the linoleum, and attempting to throw the table towards the women. It was bolted to the ground, but he strained against it for a second, not realizing.

"Here we go," Andy intoned.

"Fucking lazy dyke cops!" He screamed, red faced. "I'll fuck every single one of you if I have to. You'll understand what it means to make a man angry. I'll wait outside all your damn hideouts and fuck every single one of you, starting with you, you blonde bitch!"

He advanced around the table towards the women, veins popping from his neck and temples, eyes wild. Raydor was on him in a blink, twisting an arm behind his back and pushing his face into the table by the scruff of his neck. Chief Johnson calmly righted the chair and Raydor maneuvered Perlman into it. She released him and moved to flank the blonde, piercing the suspect with a cold, flat stare, arms crossed over her chest.

"I wouldn't try that again, Mr. Perlman." Chief Johnson said nastily. In the media room, Sanchez gave Provenza a wide-eyed look. Sharon Raydor was not at all pleased.

"Lieutenant Flynn, why wasn't the suspect handcuffed?" Pope asked in a low voice.

"Chief Johnson didn't think they would provoke the same reaction if he was immobilized. Chief Raydor agreed."

"So two unarmed females are in a small room with a now confessed rapist? That sounded like a good idea to all of you?" Pope was angry and incredulous.

"Chief, this guy is fundamentally a coward. He blitz attacks women from behind. No one thought he would actually make a move. And I would say that Chief Raydor took care of it handily. And Chief, I don't think Chief Raydor or Chief Johnson would appreciate the implication that they couldn't handle a suspect."

Why was Pope pushing this? Like Sharon Raydor couldn't take Joseph Perlman apart with her bare hands. She had shown remarkable restraint in not breaking his nose or dislocating his shoulder when she subdued him. Andy couldn't imagine sharing a room with a confessed rapist that had just threatened to rape the woman he loved.

"Now, Mr. Perlman, between the evidence I collected from your computers and apartment and that little outburst, I have plenty of evidence to put you away for multiple counts of rape and assault, all hate crimes, with the special circumstances of laying in wait." Brenda gave Perlman a little satisfied smile. "Do you know what that means? It means that parole will not be an option for you, Mr. Perlman, and you will spend the rest of your life in jail. You won't have to worry about dykes, or any women at all in San Quentin, doesn't that sound nice?"

"Would you like a chance to set the record straight, Mr. Perlman, to tell your side of the story?"

"I'll tell my story but only to someone who understands. I'm not saying anything to any damn dyke cop and her bull dyke girlfriend." Andy stood and removed his jacket from the back of the chair.

"I think that's our cue to take over, Lieutenant Provenza." They excused themselves and exited the media room.

Sharon had Brenda in her arms as soon as Lieutenant Flynn closed the interview room door behind him. She clutched at the blonde desperately.

"I know, Sharon. I know. But we got him," she soothed, sliding her hands up under Sharon's blazer and rubbing comforting circles on her back. Sharon was trembling as the adrenaline from strong arming Perlman left her system, and she felt viscerally the fear of 'what if' that had paralyzed Brenda a few hours before.

"God, Brenda Leigh," Sharon breathed, then inhaled a lungful of Brenda's scent. "Let's go home."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Takes place after the Epilogue of 5 Ways. Thanks for reading! And here's to another year of fic!**

Brenda got rolled out to a crime scene very, very early on Sunday morning. She pulled on a pair of old jeans and threw one of Sharon's blazers over a reasonably clean t-shirt and stumbled out the door with her purse in tow.

The victim was an art dealer, bludgeoned to death with some ugly, but horribly expensive statue. It had been wiped clean afterwards, of course. Aside from the front door, opened by the victim's wife when she returned from a business trip, the whole place had been hermetically sealed. Bolts thrown, alarm set. At least that limited the suspect pool.

Brenda had been surprised when her ring didn't tear open the latex gloves she had pulled on at the crime scene. Leave it to Sharon to choose jewelry that wouldn't force her to double glove every time she was handling evidence.

After they had left the body, the team gathered on the driveway in the pre-dawn light to make preliminary reports and receive assignments. Brenda would probably have to repeat herself on Monday morning, because she'd be damned if any of them heard a word she'd say, gaping as they were at the emerald on her finger.

"Y'all had better be ready to get to work on Monday," she tossed over her shoulder, a kind warning as these things went, as she walked back to her car.

The squad remained in their huddle after the Chief had driven away.

"That wasn't her jacket, was it?" Buzz asked, though they all knew the question was more rhetorical than anything.

"Who cares about that, Buzz? I want to know what the hell that ring means." Provenza was always more blunt than usual at 4 am.

"It's just weird when she is wearing something of Raydor's…"

"Hush, Buzz." Provenza erupted. "So any ideas what it means when a lady in a relationship with a lady starts wearing a ring on the marrying finger?"

"I expect it means the same thing it meant all the times you put a ring on a lady's 'marrying finger', sir. Can we not gossip about the Chief's personal life." Gabriel didn't really want to think about Chief Johnson wearing Chief Raydor's Armani blazer with her jeans, or about the striking ring on his Chief's stubby finger. And he really didn't want to think about the speed with which she left the early morning murder scene - her dislike of early morning overtime had grown monumental over the past six months.

"Gabriel, this isn't gossip. It's self preservation. Remember how nuts she got when Fritz proposed?" Provenza was right about that, but whatever Gabriel had to say in reply was interrupted by a low whistle from Tao, who had been fiddling with his cell phone since the Chief had walked away.

"That emerald was a nearly perfectly faceted square cut, a glowing blue-green color of startling clarity, and close to two and a quarter carats." Tao held his smart phone out to the group, the screen displaying the Cartier page for their new tulip setting. "And I knew I recognized that setting from somewhere; Cathy has been sighing over Cartier advertisements for months. That's a very, very expensive ring."

"Tao," Provenza growled and snatched the phone. "I don't care about the specifics of the ring. All I care about is the possible reemergence of a more neurotic post-engagement Chief."

"Guys, why don't we let Chief Raydor handle the Chief. I mean, she got the Chief through a frosty visit with Clay and Willie Rae just last week with very little crazy in evidence. Shouldn't we trust her skills?" Flynn suggested reasonably. After so long, he was no longer surprised by Provenza's protectiveness of the Chief and the squad - he supposed Provenza was just thankful he wasn't riding a desk and wanted to keep it that way - but his protectiveness hadn't been warranted in a while, not even when the Chiefs had come out to the department in a rather spectacular fashion.

"Flynn, we need to talk about this in case we need to take steps. For the Chief's sake, and ours."

"Provenza, you're blowing this out of proportion. With Agent Howard, the Chief hid every important step of their relationship. Since they came out, the Chiefs have been pretty open with what's going on. I mean, we knew the second the Chief decided to move in with Raydor. We haven't had to take steps to cover the Chief's ass in forever because she's been sort of…easy-going. And if there was trouble, what makes you think that Raydor wouldn't get there first, in any case?" Provenza scowled at him.

"I know that happy, well-adjusted Brenda Leigh Johnson is still weird, and we're all waiting for the other shoe to drop, but if the crazy begins to resurface, we'll see it. I mean, we all know what that looks like, and we'll let Chief Raydor know if it happens. But right now, we should just be happy that the Chief is happy." Provenza's scowl deepened. That Raydor was no longer the enemy was hard for him after nearly two decades of animosity with the woman.

Tao and Sanchez were nodding in agreement with Flynn's assessment of the situation. Gabriel looked like he wanted to stick his fingers in his ears, which was par for the course since the 'text message incident', as he like to call it.

"Ok, we'll keep our eyes open. And I'll talk to Raydor if we see anything more odd than usual." Provenza threw up his hands and shuffled off to his car; the others nodded in general agreement and dispersed.

Brenda slipped back in the bedroom hoping to cuddle up with Sharon for a few more hours sleep. She shed her clothes on the floor and slid under the duvet.

"You didn't just drop half of my thousand dollar suit on the floor, did you?" Sharon's voice was sleep roughened and sent a little shiver of pleasure down Brenda's spine.

"Course not, baby. It's on a chair, downstairs." Brenda curled herself around Sharon and buried her face in the mane of brunette hair that trailed over the pillows. "Go back to sleep."

"Kay. Love you." Sharon was already half-asleep again.

"Love you, too." Brenda said, and inhaled the familiar and comforting scent of her lover's shampoo before closing her eyes.

Brenda blinked blearily into the all-too awake green eyes of Sharon Raydor.

"What?" She croaked. "Why're you staring at me." Sharon grinned at her and propped her head on her hand.

"I need a reason?" Brenda stretched and arched her back. Sharon licked her lips.

"Nooo, but you always have a reason." Brenda rolled over to face Sharon, pressing their hips together. Sharon chuckled.

"Well, this morning my reason is that I was wondering how adorable you looked in those jeans and that t-shirt and my suit jacket."

"Pretty adorable. But I always look adorable." Brenda giggled. "The boys hate it when I wear your jackets. It makes them all twitchy."

"That's probably because you like to smell the lapels when you think they aren't looking." Brenda's cheeks reddened and Sharon grinned at her.

In a small voice, Brenda said: "I like the way you smell."

"I know you do, but they're observant people, and lord knows it's pretty obvious you sneak up to my office and steal one of my jackets when you've had a particularly hard day."

"Jerk," Brenda groused, and in reply Sharon leaned over and kissed her, softly, on the corner of her mouth.

"Can I make you some breakfast, Brenda Leigh?" Brenda shook her head; she was pouting.

"No pouting." She kissed the blonde's forehead. "I'll tell you a secret. Your brown sweater, it's hidden in the credenza in my office. And every time I put it on, my assistant looks at me like I'm a cretin. She's kind of a clothes snob."

Brenda's lips twitched at Sharon's admission, like she was fighting down a smile.

"You're kind of a clothes snob, Sharon Raydor." Brenda accused, scowling, but Sharon could tell she wasn't really angry; her brown eyes were laughing. Brenda could only take teasing about her dependence on Sharon if Sharon made sure Brenda knew it was co-dependence.

"But I'm your clothes snob."

"I guess you are." Brenda was holding on to her disgruntled tone, though she buried her face in Sharon's chest and placed a kiss on her sternum. "Hmmmm," she hummed, the sound reverberating through Sharon's chest. She twitched her hips a little. "You wanna make love?" Sharon groaned when she felt Brenda nibble along her collarbone.

"Can we eat first, Brenda Leigh?" The blonde sighed.

"If we must." She sounded aggrieved. "No showering, though. You smell fantastic." Sharon rolled her eyes and smiled.


End file.
